


The Golodhrim

by silvertrails



Series: Quick to Anger [13]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-17 00:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11840481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvertrails/pseuds/silvertrails
Summary: The first days in Caranthir's new realm.





	1. Chapter 1

**The Golodhrim  
By CC  
January, 2016**

This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit is made and no harm is intended. 

This story is set after the sons of Fëanor leave Lake Mithrim, but before the Mered Aderthad.

* * *

Brellas slowed down his horse, and shielded his eyes with a hand, trying to find the path he was looking for among the dense foliage. He was coming from the southern lands, back to the forest. The Elders had called a meeting of all the people others called Green Elves because of their attire. Brellas used to live with his family near Lake Helevorn when he was a child, but his people had moved back to the forest a few years ago, and now the Golodhrim had taken the lands. 

The Elders had advised caution. The Golodhrim were powerful, and it was said that they had battled against those of the Third People who lived in the Blessed Lands and won that battle. There was more to it, Brellas suspected, as most of the Golodhrim were no longer welcome in Thingol’s realm, but whatever the truth was the Elders were keeping it to themselves. 

Brellas frowned. This was their land, and no Golodh had the right to…

He stopped walking. 

A Golodh was standing a few paces ahead of him. The other Elf had long, dark hair and brilliant gray eyes. His pose was kingly, but his clothes marked him as a scout or a messenger, or so Brellas thought. He had seen a group of Golodhrim from afar, seven rounds of the sun ago. They were riding magnificent horses, led by a dark-haired Elf. Two red-haired Elves had turned south and taken part of the group. 

“Greetings,” the Golodh said in Sindarin. “I am looking for the Elders, but I believe that they are not where their people said.”

“My people never lie.”

The Golodh’s haughty expression changed. “I meant no offense, young one. Perhaps they have moved somewhere else? My name is Morifinwë Carnistir, and I would speak to your Elders. Would you be so kind to lead me to them?”

“Are you an envoy from the new Lord of Thargelion?”

Morifinwë looked at him. “I bring news from the new lord of Thargelion.”

Brellas nodded. “Then come with me, Morifinwë. My name is Brellas, and I will guide you to the Elders.”

“Thank you.”

Morifinwë followed Brellas through the seemingly unmarked paths that led to the place where the Elders’ had made their dwelling. It was deep into the forest, where no one could find them unless they wanted to be found. The trees protected them, and the only reason they allowed the Golodh to pass through was that Brellas was with him.

“I have seen trees similar to these in the West, but they look different here,” Morifinwë said as they passed under a path shaded from the sun by the joining crowns of the trees. 

Brellas looked at him, “How so?”

“They look… wilder here, untamed in their growth.”

“Do you not like untamed creatures, Morifinwë?”

“I like to tame them, if that is possible, but there is beauty in the unknown too.”

“Is this how you, Golodhrim, see these lands, as something to be tamed?”

Morifinwë stopped walking. “That is not so, Brellas. We want to protect the land from our common enemy. Surely you agree that Morgoth is a danger to us all.”

“But these are our lands!”

Morifinwë looked puzzled. “King Thingol said that we could take these lands, and my brothers and I are speaking with the Elders in every place we go. Are you not Thingol’s subjects then?”

“Not in that way,” Brellas said, wishing he had held his temper in check. The Elders would not be pleased if they head about his outburst.

“We will not take your lands, Brellas,” Morifinwë said. “The Elders have accepted King Thingol’s decision, but we mean to share the land with your people, not take it for ourselves.”

Brellas was about to say something else when a scout came down from a tree. It was Laellas, who spoke the Golodhrim’s tongue and was the appointed messenger when it came to dealings with them. He greeted Morifinwë respectfully, and after exchanging a few words, Laellas turned back to Sindarin.

“Follow me, please, Lord Caranthir.”

“Lord Caranthir? You said your name was---”

“Morifinwë Carnistir. That is the name my father and mother gave me. Your people call me Caranthir.”

“But---”

“Brellas, what is the meaning of this?” Laellas said. “The Elders are waiting for Lord Caranthir. He is our guest.”

“I didn’t know it was him.”

“Brellas was kind enough to lead me here,” ‘Lord Caranthir’ said. “I am to blame for this, Laellas. I chose not to tell him who I am, though I did tell him my name. I apologize, Brellas. You must understand that while traveling without an escort I must be most careful.”

Brellas was angry, but as he recalled their conversation, he realized that Caranthir didn’t answer his question about being a messenger directly. He felt like a fool. 

He nodded. “Apology accepted, ‘lord’.”

Laellas was shaking his head, but Caranthir just looked amused, with made Brellas’ irritation worse. He followed Laellas and Caranthir through the last part of the road, and parted ways with them when they arrived at the Elders’ lair. 

He didn’t see Caranthir until the ‘lord’ asked for him to be his guide again. Brellas briefly wondered if he should lead the Lord of Thargelion astray, but he was certain that the Elders would not approve, or the Golodhrim for that matter. 

“I have something to ask you,” Caranthir said as they walked through the paths that led directly to the Lake. 

_Other than making me guide you out of the forest?_

Caranthir laughed. “Yes, apart from that.”

Brellas stopped walking. “How did you know? Are you reading my mind…? You cannot do that!”

“Actually, I can.”

Brellas clenched his fists. “You arrogant Golodh---”

Caranthir sighed. “Peace, Brellas. I can teach you how to shield your mind. You are projecting your thoughts, and that is because you are angry. I am a mind-reader. That’s all there is to it.”

Brellas frowned. “But you could try not to read my thoughts.”

“I could, but it is better if you shield your mind. There are dark creatures that would not hesitate to hurt you, and getting inside your mind would be a way.”

Brellas nodded grudgingly. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, Mori… Caranthir.”

“Why are you so angry at me?”

Brellas opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Why was he so angry? It was true that the Golodhrim had come to live in their lands, and that King Thingol had simply given them leave to take them, but Caranthir was not the only Golodh and---

He looked at Caranthir sharply. “Are you reading my mind now?”

“No. You are calmer now, and I closed mine. Listen, Brellas, I would like you to help me with something.”

“Help you?”

Caranthir nodded. “I am new to this land, and I want to understand your people’s traditions and ways. If we are to share the land, we need to cooperate with each other. I need an advisor.”

“And advisor? Me? I am a scout and a warrior, not an advisor.”

“You are bold and won’t hold back if I’m about to mess things up, and that is what I need. No need to answer me now, Brellas. Think about it.”

They were at the edge of the forest, and the path to Thargelion was clear from that point. Brellas saw a couple of Golodhrim scouts in the distance. They relaxed when Caranthir raised his hand. 

“So thank you for leading me out of the forest,” Caranthir said. “Will you think about it?”

Brellas looked at Caranthir. “I will.”

“Good. You could come to Thargelion with me now, and see what we have been doing in the lands around the lake.”

Brellas shook his head. “Not now, but grant me safe passage. I don’t want your scouts and warriors to stop me when I come.”

“Here,” Caranthir said. “This will grant you safe passage in my lands.”

_His lands?_

Brellas managed not to start arguing again and took the offered token. It was a small leather bag, and it contained a green gem, a strange symbol cut into it. Fine work…

“Thank you, Caranthir.”

“I will see you when you are ready,” Caranthir said, and then he turned around and left. His scouts were holding a huge black horse for him. Brellas didn’t move until Caranthir was gone, and then he pocketed the leather bag and started the way back to the forest.


	2. Chapter 2

Caranthir surveyed the masons’ work on the fortress they had built at the foot of Mount Rerir. It was almost ready, and it would be manned by his best warriors, and those of the Sindar who had combat experience. Houses and workshops had been built, and stables for horses. There were also administrative buildings, and a house of learning where the young could be tutored both in the knowledge needed in times of peace, and in the art of war. Scribes and teachers would be in charge of these houses of learning. They had even a small library, and both Sindar and Noldor Elves were working in a way to adapt the Tengwar to the sounds of the Sindarin language. The Sindar had very simple runes, learned only by the Elders and a few Elves that worked with them.

There were lands for agriculture and edible fish both in the lake and the Gelion. It was possible to hunt for game too, though for that Caranthir’s hunters had to move south, near Ambarussa’s lands. 

“Pardon, my Lord.”

“What is it, Herenmo?”

“Lord Brellas is waiting for you at the castle.”

_’Lord’ Brellas?_

_That’s amusing._

His dwelling was not a proper castle, but Caranthir was done with correcting his men about this. “Tell Lord Brellas that he can join me here, unless he wants to wait until I am done.”

Herenmo bowed and left. Caranthir turned back to the masons and the fortress, his mind straying to the bold Sinda from time to time. Seven rounds of the Sun had passed since Caranthir asked Brellas to come to Thargelion and be his advisor. He had certainly taken his time to think about it!

It was only an hour later than Brellas joined him at the foot of Mount Rerir. The Sinda Elf was dressed in green and brown, simple tunic and breeches, and a dark green cloak over his shoulders. He didn’t look angry, with was puzzling. Caranthir hid a smile.

“You have a great castle there,” Brellas said. “Too big for my taste, but I guess that’s the Golodhrim way.”

_He can be so irritating…_

“It is not a castle, just my house.”

Brellas shrugged. “Who am I to judge how big a house could be before you call it a castle? My people live in wooden houses mostly.”

“Thingol lives in a big cave.”

Brellas frowned.

“What? My cousins seem to think it was a beautiful cave. One of them lives there now, I believe.”

Brellas looked at him. “So you have never been there?”

“No.”

Brellas seemed about to say something else, but then looked away. “I see. I have never been there, either. My father visited it before I was born. He was one of the Elders.”

“Your father…”

“Is dead, and so is my mother. It was during an Orc raid a few years ago. I was not with them. I wish I had.”

“You couldn’t have known… I am sorry. How old were you when…?” 

“Just over a hundred years old.”

So young, Caranthir mused, realizing just how young Brellas was, and how raw was still his pain. Caranthir still believed that Brellas would be a good advisor, if he agreed to stay in Thargelion after he knew the truth about Alqualondë.

“Your father died too,” Brellas said. 

Caranthir stiffened. “Yes. Let’s go back to my house. I think I am done here.”

Brellas looked puzzled, but nodded. “It looks like it will be a magnificent fortress. Are there other fortresses like this in the other realms?”

“There was one, in Eithel Sirion, and no doubt my brothers and cousins will build something similar. My cousins are in Tol Sirion and Dorthonion, and my brothers in East Beleriand. We intend to keep Morgoth at bay and prepare for war while we keep peace.”

One of his men had brought Dark Star. Only then did Caranthir realize that Brellas had come all the way to the fortress on foot. 

“Fetch Lord Brellas’ horse.”

“There is no need, and I am no lord.”

Caranthir gestured for his men to leave them. “Did you come on foot?”

“Yes. Horses are scarce, so we only use them for long journeys.”

“I see. Then we will both return on foot.”

Caranthir gestured for Herenmo to take Dark Star back to the stables, and lead the way. It was a nice day, and the lake looked beautiful under the sun. It was in no way as beautiful as the light of Laurelin on the rivers and lakes near Valmar, but it was as good as it could be in these lands.

“What do you think of what you have seen, so far?” 

Brellas looked thoughtful for a moment. “Your people are highly skilled in many crafts. Your castle is… beautiful, and the gardens around it invite to long walks under the stars. I like the harbor too. It’s magnificent.”

Not as beautiful as Alqualondë, Caranthir mused, wondering just how much Brellas knew. “My dwelling is not a proper castle,” he said, “but it does look as one of my grandfather’s palace’s halls. It was a quiet place, and I spent long hours in the library. Do you like to read, Brellas?”

“I do, but there are few books among my people. We treasure them, but not everybody reads them; only the Elders and those who have learned the runes.”

“Not everybody reads books among us, either,” Caranthir said. “If you wish, I can teach you our runes so you can read our books. You could teach me yours in exchange. I could teach you Quenya, too.”

“I would like that.”

As they walked, Brellas told Caranthir about the roads, the stables, the crops, and they shared information about how things were done by both people. His eyes kept going to the lake at their left, though. 

“The Elders told me that Helevorn means Black Glass, and that it was a place of worship for your people in the past. They said that you gathered around the shore to look at the stars, and that a few of you were skilled enough to look into the future by looking at the paths of the stars.”

“We did, but it all changed when the Dark Lord started to hunt us down. He took many of us and made the lake a dangerous place. When the moon came up, we believed that the light would drive the darkness away, but the sun was so bright that we could no longer see the stars.”

Caranthir nodded. “Yet now the moon and the sun follow different paths and different times, so your Elders could still gather around the lake and look at the stars.”

Brellas shook his head. “Something has changed forever with the new lights, and though we could still look at the stars and their reflection on the lake, the past is gone. Everything comes to an end. That is what the Elders say, and seeing your people here now I believe it.”

“You believe my people will be the end of yours?”

“I don’t know,” Brellas said. “I believe that you want to cooperate with us and share the land, but you have come from the West like an unstoppable force, and those new lights have come with you. I will stay in Lake Helevorn, Caranthir, only if you tell me why you came and what happened at Alqualondë.

Caranthir stopped walking. They were not far from his house, but he needed privacy for this. The Elders knew, and they had been brutally honest about it. They despised the Noldor for what they had done, but at the same time they knew that there was no way their people could stand against Morgoth alone. They were willing to cooperate against the common enemy, but they would never be friends with the Golodhrim.

“We took the ships from the Teleri by force, and there was a battle at Alqualondë. We started it, and though many of us died, we killed more of the Teleri people. It was a kinslaying, as they were not only our friends, but in many cases also our kin. Thingol knows. The Elders know too.”

Brellas paled, fists clenched in anger, apparently unable to decide if he should hit him or leave. Whatever happened now would decide their future, and Caranthir hoped that the younger Elf would be able to understand and forgive.

“Why?” Brellas said after a while.

“We swore an Oath, with Eru as our witness. We vowed to pursue Morgoth until the end of Time and retrieve my father’s Silmarills. We also swore revenge on our grandfather’s death. We needed those boats, and the Teleri would not give them to us.”

“And so you killed them?”

The emotions coming from Brellas washed over Caranthir. Disbelief, anger, hate, pain, despair and anger again. Caranthir closed his shields.

“Yes,” he said.

Brellas’ eyes burned with anger, and his fists were white knuckled, but still he did not move. Caranthir stood there, ready for whatever would happen now. Finally, Brellas simply turned around and left. Caranthir sighed. There was nothing he could do about it. Maybe Maitimo would have explained things better, and Káno would have showed more empathy while speaking about this. It was not Caranthir’s way. He could do nothing but bear the strength of Brellas’ strong emotions battling his shields. He had to, because no matter how much he liked Brellas, he could not show any weakness in front of him, not if he was going to be the Lord of Thargelion.


	3. Chapter 3

Brellas didn’t stop walking until he was out of Caranthir’s realm. He passed by the huge house, and the smaller ones behind it. He ignored the beauty of the path around the lake, and barely waved good-bye to the few Sindar and Silvan Elves he met on his way. They were already living and working in Thargelion, and they looked content. Brellas wondered if they knew what their new lord and his brothers had done. 

_They killed our kin!_

Brellas was furious. How could the Elders agree to cooperate with one who had slain their kin? How could Thingol give the sons of Fëanor power over these lands? Could he not take it back? 

No, he couldn’t, Brellas mused. These Golodhrim were powerful, and even their eyes shone with a strange light. Surely Thingol had seen that too. 

The Elders had told Brellas that the Golodhrim had seen the Light of the Trees, and not even the Tatyar, the few of their people who stayed back, rivaled them in might and power.

There was something else that was bothering Brellas. He had started to like Caranthir, and think that they could become friends in time. How stupid he had been in believing that a Golod could be trusted!

That had been a terrible Oath to make…

Brellas sighed. The Elders knew of this and yet they sent him to work with Caranthir. They should have told him what really happened in the Blessed Lands, not send him to blind to discover such a terrible truth. 

_Did they believe that Caranthir would hide the truth from me?_

Brellas stopped walking, and climbed a tree as was his way when he needed to think. It was a beech tree, one he had liked since he was an elfling and his parents were still alive. In those days, Brellas would climb as high as possible and pretend to be a guard. He had become one when he came of age, but the Elders had noticed his skill to learn the runes and assigned him to work with them.

They had also insisted that he was trained as a warrior. The only thing they couldn’t make of him was a diplomat, like his father had been. Brellas smiled, remembering those lectures, and how Laellas had excelled in them. Brellas had always been unable to hold his temper when something bothered him.

The Elders would not be pleased, but they should have sent Laellas and not him. Brellas wondered if Laellas knew the truth. It was not fair. Caranthir had been agreeable enough, and the buildings and other facilities in Thargelion had been built to accommodate the needs of both peoples, or so had Herenmo had said. 

“Brellas, what are you doing up there?”

It was Laellas. 

“I’m thinking.”

“I thought you were in Thargelion, with Lord Caranthir.”

Brellas looked at his friend. “Do you know what happened at Alqualondë, Laellas? Do you know the whole story?”

Laellas climbed the tree until he reached the place where Brellas was sitting. He looked troubled. 

“I’ve heard rumors, Brellas. I have questioned the Elders myself, but I’m not allowed to discuss what I know with anyone, not even with you.”

“So you know the real truth. I know it now, Laellas. Caranthir told me everything.”

“Then you should speak with the Elders.”

Brellas nodded. “They sent me there knowing what really happened to our kin. They should have told me in advance. I would never have agreed to be Caranthir’s counselor if I’d known what happened.”

“What happened in Thargelion, Brellas?”

“I asked, he told me the truth. I left.”

“I see.” Laellas looked away for a moment and then spoke again. “I met his brothers, the ones with red hair. They are twins. They came with Lord Caranthir.”

Brellas nodded. “I saw them in the distance.”

“They are living in the plains of Estolad, near Amon Ereb. They have brought craftsmen and warriors, and many Green Elves have joined them. They don’t have a big house like Lord Caranthir, but they have vowed to protect everyone who joins them.”

“Do you think that the ones who joined them know what happened in the West?”

“They know there was a battle, and I believe that the truth will come out at some moment. The Golodhrim are here to stay, Brellas. There is no going back to our world as it was before. We have no choice but to adapt and survive. They are not our enemies. Not here, not now.”

“It angers me that King Thingol gave them our lands.”

Laellas placed a hand on Brellas’ shoulder. “I know, and I understand how you feel, but being angry at them won’t solve our current problem. The Dark One is back and we have to fight him.”

Brellas nodded. “I know.”

"They came after the Dark One,” Laellas continued, “and at first I wondered if it was their fault. I know better now. You should speak with the Elders, Brellas. It’s important for our people that you go back to Thargelion.”

“I’m not going to spy on Caranthir.”

Laellas shook his head. “Just speak with the Elders. Come with me now. We are needed in the northern post. The Dark One’s creatures seem to be moving again.”

They climbed down the tree and Brellas followed Laellas, joining the small patrol that stood guard on the northern area of the forest. Now that Caranthir had taken residence in Thargelion the Orcs were trying to enter the forest through the northwestern road. 

When Brellas and Laellas arrived at the area they found their people speaking with Caranthir’s. Apparently the Golodhrim had seen the Orcs coming and had engaged them in battle before they could reach the forest. A new cooperation agreement was being made, and Brellas stood there while Laellas helped to smooth the communication between both peoples. Their chief was a tall Golod with hair as dark as the night and brilliant blue eyes. His name was Haston.

Brellas nodded a greeting, and listened to everything that was said, understanding how cooperating with the Golodhrim would help his people to stay safe. 

Once Haston and his men left, Brellas turned to Laellas. “They have better weapons than us, I give them that.”

“And they are willing to teach us how to make them,” Belegast said. He was the chief of the northern patrol. 

“They offered this freely?” Brellas asked.

“Only if we take a vow,” Belegast said. “We must swear that we won’t use the weapons against them, unless provoked.”

“These Golodhrim and their damned vows! Why is it that---” 

Laellas raised a hand. “It makes sense, Brellas. Lord Caranthir and the Elders are not friends, just associates. If they are going to give us their knowledge, they must make sure that we don’t betray them.”

_Like they betrayed our kin in Alqualondë._

Brellas sighed, making an effort to curb down his temper. “I will speak with the Elders.”

Laellas nodded. Belegast just looked at him, surprise clear in his grey eyes. Brellas used the time it took to reach the Elders’ dwelling to calm down. He would have to explain why he left Thargelion, but he was going to demand… ask the Elders why they had hidden the truth from him. 

The entrance to their lair was hidden by a maze of trees and shrubs where you could get lost without ever reaching the Elders’ dwelling. Laellas had guided Caranthir, and though the Lord of Thargelion might have memorized the path, the trees were sentient enough to confuse an unwelcome visitor if needed. As he walked, Brellas got the eerie feeling that the trees were not pleased with his latest decisions, but maybe it was just the reflection of the Elders’ thoughts.

He had promised to keep a hold on is temper, after all.

 _They should have told me the truth_ , Brellas mused as he climbed the stairs around a huge tree. He entered the Elders’ home, and waited in the antechamber until one of the servants opened the green curtain and let him in.

The Elders were seated on cushions forming a circle, four at each side of their leader, Egalwen. She was ancient one who had woken in Cuiviénen and lost her mate to the Dark Lord. The others were not as old as she was, but old enough to have walked the world when the Dark Lord’s creatures stole the Quendi away to torture them and breed a twisted race from them.

“What brings you here, child?” Egalwen asked once Brellas sat on a cushion, facing them all.

“I learned the truth about Alqualondë, Elder. I asked and Lord Caranthir told me. He explained about his vow and the reason why he and his brothers came here.”

The Elders didn’t look surprised. “What do you think about it, Brellas?” Bregor, the youngest among the Elders, asked.

“I feel betrayed, by you and by him. I mean no disrespect but how can you work with Lord Caranthir after what he and his brothers did? Those were our kin in Alqualondë!”

“You should know better than to accuse us, Brellas,” Bregor said. “We must keep our people safe, and this is the cost we have to pay.”

Brellas opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. He had seen firsthand how powerful these Golodhrim were. 

“Why do you think we have accepted this situation, child?” Imedhel asked. She was one of the first children born to the Quendi. Her eyes were serene, and her manner as gentle as the kiss of the light of the sun.

“I think that Lord Caranthir is here to stay, and that we have no choice. I apologize for my harsh words, Elders. I know that you do it for our people’s sake. The Dark Lord is back, and the Golodhrim are willing to cooperate with us in our fight against him.”

“If you understand, why are you still so angry?” Egalwen asked. 

“Because you didn’t tell me about it,” Brellas said. “I would never have gone to Thargelion if I had known the truth.”

“Are you not going back then?”

Brellas closed his eyes briefly. “I will go back, Elders. I know I must, but I don’t want to go blind there again, so please tell me if there is something else I should know.”

“All right,” Egalwen said, “but you must promise not to speak about this to anyone, not even Lord Caranthir.”

“What if he tells me about those things, like he did with the kinslaying at Alqualondë?”

“In that case, use your wisdom, child, and keep a hold on your temper. Our cooperation with the Golodhrim is important to keep the Dark Lord from destroying our people.”

Brellas nodded, and the Elders proceeded to tell him all they knew about Lord Caranthir and his brothers, and about the other Golodhrim, those who were betrayed by Fëanor. Once it was over, Brellas returned to his dwelling and tried to sleep. He had much to think about, but he was tired and needed a clear head to deal with all the information. Then he would go back to Thargelion and see if Caranthir still wanted him to be his advisor.


	4. Chapter 4

Caranthir sat alone in his balcony looking over the lake, sipping at his wine and thinking of the many improvements he had made in his lands. The necessary dwellings were ready, and so were the houses of teaching and healing. There was a beautiful pathway around the southern part of the lake where his people could spend their free time in calm afternoons. There were other buildings being built, like wine shops and grocers, and a hall where minstrels could delight everyone with their musical abilities. A library was also being built, and Caranthir was glad to have brought lore masters with him. He could be happy here if were not for Morgoth and the Oath. 

That was why Caranthir had built a fortress at the feet of Mount Rerir, and outposts all around his lands, manned by the best warriors in Thargelion. They could not forget that the enemy could come out of his fortress at any time, and destroy everything that the Noldor had created, and then overrun the weaker realms of the Silvan Elves. Only Thingol and Melian would stand between the Darkness and life in Middle-earth, and Caranthir wasn’t sure they would be able to contain Morgoth for long. 

That was not going to happen, he mused as he saw Arien’s vessel slowly going down and taking the last rays of Vása’s light with her. 

The Noldor had come to these lands seeking revenge on Fiwë’s death and the recovery of the Silmarils. They had other duties now, to the people who lived in the land before and even to the Second Born that Findaráto had found. They had to prevail and contain Morgoth and with the Valar’s help… No, the Valar no longer cared for the Noldor, at least not for those of Fëanáro’s line. 

_We will have to do it by ourselves._

A slight sound behind made Caranthir turn around. It was Herenmo, and Brellas was with him. It had been a week since Brellas left, and Caranthir had been thinking of asking the Elders for another counselor. He could not show how relieved he was that Brellas was back. Actually, he didn’t want to understand why he felt like this.

“Pardon my lord Caranthir. Lord Brellas is here and insisted on coming to the balcony.”

_Of course he would…_

Caranthir looked from Brellas to Herenmo.

“It’s all right, Herenmo. Will you stay for dinner, Lord Brellas?”

Brellas managed to look defiant and embarrassed at the same time. “I will. Thank you Lord Caranthir. And please, call me Brellas. I’m no lord.”

“All right, Brellas. We will dine in the green hall, Herenmo.”

Herenmo nodded and left.

“Please, take a seat, Brellas.”

Brellas took a seat and waited for Caranthir to pour some wine for him before speaking.

“I… apologize for leaving like that,” he said. “I was angry, but my duty is to stay here and do as the Elders asked.”

“And what did they ask from you, Brellas? Did they ask you to spy on me?” 

“I would never do such thing!”

“Then why is it so important that you come back if it’s so obvious that you cannot forgive what my family did at Alqualondë?”

Brellas took a deep breath, “Because we need to join forces against the Dark Lord.”

Caranthir let the shadow of a smile play on his lips, “And?”

“Because I don’t think anyone else will be able to work with you!”

“That’s better,” Caranthir said. “Drink more wine, and tell me why I should accept you back. You have more than one reason to kill me, and I doubt your Elders would mind. Our meeting was not pleasant, though I can’t say they were rude or menacing.”

“They are not a threat to you, Lord Caranthir. We might not be glad to have you here, but we understand that you can help us to battle against the Dark Lord. Actually, the Elders wanted me to convey their thanks for helping my people, to you and your people.”

“We promised our help, and we always fulfill our promises.”

“As for why you should accept me, I am bound by the same promise the Elders made to you. I will not harm you, unless provoked.”

“All right then. Welcome back, Brellas. I believe that our cooperation will make this transition better. Let us go to the green hall. Dinner must be ready. Later, a servant will take you to your rooms here.”

They stood. 

“I thought I would live with the rest of your staff,” Brellas said.

“My staff lives here, in a special area behind the main halls, but Herenmo and my other counselors live in the house if they are not married. Are you married, Brellas?”

Brellas frowned. “No, I’m not. Are you?” 

“I’m not.”

They walked the rest of the way to the hall in silence, and for once Brellas didn’t ask questions or made irritating remarks. The green hall was a small cozy place where Caranthir would dine when he didn’t want to be disturbed by anyone. There were green tapestries on the walls, and shelves with Caranthir’s books. There were also paintings of different landscapes, both from Aman and these new lands. There was a painter among Caranthir’s people, a young woman named Almerië. 

“This is beautiful,” Brellas said. “Are those paintings from your homeland?”

“Yes,” Caranthir said. “Almerië painted them by memory, but she’s done a wonderful work.”

Brellas nodded. “I can recognize a few places.”

“We traveled far from Lake Mithrim to get here. I must say that this land is beautiful too, though in a different way.”

“In an untamed way, you mean.”

Caranthir smiled. “I said that. In these last days I have realized that I don’t need to tame these lands, but to understand their strange beauty.”

Brellas grinned. “I didn’t know you were a poet, Lord Caranthir.”

Caranthir scowled at him. “I’m not.”

The servants came in that moment, so they both sat at the table, and waited for them to serve dinner. Brellas looked almost relaxed, and his brown hair seemed to shine under the light of the lamps. Caranthir shook himself over. This was his counselor, and might turn into an enemy. He didn’t trust the Elders, with reason. He could not trust Brellas, either.


	5. Chapter 5

Brellas stood in his bedroom, looking out the window over the lake. Anar had not yet risen but he could see the beginning of a golden light on the East. Soon the sky would change from dark into intense blue, and then the last of the stars would fade away as Arien rose with the warm light that made all green things grow and thrive. The only thing that would mar the beauty of the blue sky would be the dark fumes in the far north, where the Dark Lord waited. 

_I am starting to sound like Caranthir._

Normally, the lord of Thargelion seldom spoke more than a few words, especially when they were discussing urgent matters like the defense of the realm or the mines his men had found near Mount Rerir. In those meetings, Caranthir would listen to his counselors in silence, and only once they had discussed all the possible ways to proceed, he would ask questions and then decide what to do. 

That was Caranthir when acting the lord of Thargelion.

It was different when Caranthir and Brellas walked around the lake at night, or climbed up the mountains, past the fortress his men had built. Caranthir would simply enjoy the view then, and told Brellas many things about the land he came from. Brellas would offer his own knowledge of the lands south from Estolad, and they would engage in long conversations about the nature of Arda.

Caranthir had told Brellas about Arien, the Spirit of Fire who guided the vessel of Anar, the last fruit of Laurelin, a golden tree that had been killed by the Dark Lord and Ungoliantë, a dark spirit that feed on light. There had been another tree, a silver one, and its last fruit was led by Tilion, another spirit, less powerful than Arien. The Golodhrim had learned this from Queen Melian, who had told the story to Lady Galadriel, one of Caranthir’s cousins. 

Brellas could not imagine the loss of such light, which apparently had been brighter than Anar’s and Isil’s light. His people had always lived under the light of the stars until the world changed, and they had felt happy when they looked at the sky. Maybe that was why the Golodhrim’ eyes were so bright, and why they were so powerfully built while the Elves who stayed behind were of a slender frame. A few of the Golodhrim were haughty, like Haston, who would look at Brellas with his cold blue eyes as if he resented his presence near Caranthir. The rest of the Golodhrim he had met were civil enough, and there were others like Almerië that were nice and amiable. Caranthir could be quite haughty too, when it suited him. Brellas sighed. Dark deeds might have brought these people together, but they seemed genuinely determined to create a new life and put everything behind. 

_Everything other than that terrible Oath…_

Brellas had been in Thargelion over two turns of the Moon, and he had to admit that his advice was important to Caranthir, and that they were working for the good of both peoples. He was also starting to enjoy the time he spent with Caranthir alone, and getting to know him better. 

_I should be getting ready to attend today’s council…_

Brellas quickly got dressed, and soon he was sitting at the table with Haston, Herenmo, and other members of Caranthir’s council. Once the lord of Thargelion arrived, the servants started to serve breakfast. They exchanged news about their respective areas of expertise, but the conversation was light and no problems were mentioned while they broke their fast. Once they were done, they followed Caranthir to the council chamber and only then they started to discuss about the current state of the realm. 

“Is there anything else?” Caranthir asked once the minor issues had been solved. “Haston, I believe you had something important to tell us about?”

Haston bowed lightly. “Yes, my lord. We have seen strange creatures walking through the mountain passes in the north. They are small, but they look strong, and their features are unlovely when compared to the Secondborn.”

Brellas had told Caranthir about the Dwarves, but this was the first time they came near Thargelion since the Golodhrim entered the lands.

“Did you speak with them?” another counselor asked. Nolwë was the representative of the Loremasters. 

“No. They seemed to try to pass unnoticed, but they make enough noise for an untrained scout to hear them breathe.”

“Do you know about these creatures, Brellas?” Lady Elarien asked. She was in charge of the Houses of Healing. 

“They are Dwarves, people from the mountains. They claim to have been created by Lord Aulë. They call him Mahal.”

“The only other children of Ilúvatar are the Secondborn,” Haston said. He looked at Brellas. “Are you certain that they are not creations of the Dark Lord?”

“They are children of Lord Aulë, as I said. They have lived in the Blue Mountains for long, and they claim that there is a great Dwarven city south from the Hithaeglir, Hadhodrond, or Khazad-dûm in their language.”

“You seem to have great knowledge about them.”

Brellas ignored Haston’s remark. “They are different to us, and claim to know things about Endor that we cannot possibly know because they go into underground caves.”

Something changed in Caranthir’s eyes at the mention of the caves, Brellas noticed. It had been the same when Brellas told him about this before. Caranthir had asked him if these Dwarves were miners. 

“You said they speak a different language,” Nolwë said. “Have you or any of your people learned it?”

“No. They refuse to teach it to us. There is an old feud between Elves and Dwarves. Our kind… we used to hunt them down.”

Haston arched an eyebrow. “And why would you do that? I though your people were peaceful. Did you participate…?”

Brellas shifted uneasily in his seat. “I was not yet born when it happened, but the Elders told me that there were very small Dwarves, apparently living on their own. My people didn’t know what they were until we found the others.”

“What do you mean?” Lady Elarien asked.

“The ones who live in the great cities,” Brellas said. “They have been traveling in these lands for a long time. They work with metal and jewels, but they don’t grow food, so they get it from Men, and sometimes from us. They also buy our wine.”

“Do they make weapons?” Haston asked. 

“They make swords and battle axes mainly. They also make armor.”

“So we could establish a trade agreement with them,” Herenmo said. He had been silent until now. Brellas knew that Herenmo was Caranthir’s aide and secretary, but apparently his tasks included organizing production and trade.

Caranthir believed that the Dwarves might work in richer mines, on the northern and eastern flanks of the Ered Luin. He was also interested in their usual trade routes. Brellas had told him all he knew already, so the meeting had been mainly to listen to the other councilors. 

“Herenmo, it is imperative that we make contact with these Dwarves. Brellas, I need you two to work together on this. We could establish a trade agreement, but if they want to pass through my lands to reach other trading parties, they will have to pay a toll. Haston, I want you to assess their military power. We cannot risk being attacked by them, and given what happened with the smaller Dwarves, it could happen. Once this is done, Lady Elarien and Nolwë can learn from them, if they are willing to share their knowledge. That would be all, my friends. Thank you for your time.”

Brellas stood, but before he could leave with Herenmo, Caranthir gestured for him to stay. Herenmo nodded, and left, once Brellas assured him that he would look for him as soon as possible. 

Caranthir was still sitting at the table, a strange look in his eyes. “Come and sit with me, Brellas. I have something to tell you.”

Brellas tensed. “Is something wrong, Caranthir?”

“Please, sit down.”

Brellas did as Caranthir asked. “So, tell me what is going on?”

“You never knew your parents.”

“No. They were killed when I was very small. I… I remember their voices, and a feeling of contentment, but that is all. Why are you asking me this now?” 

“Your mother was killed by Orcs, but your father survived.”

Brellas felt the blood drain from his face. “W-what…?”

Caranthir placed a hand over Brellas’ and squeezed it lightly. “Calm down. I will explain it all.”

Brellas nodded mutely. His mind was whirling, though. How could this have happened? Why did the Elders hide this from him? How did Caranthir get this information?

“I spoke with Lady Egalwen and few days ago, and she told me everything about your parents. She has kept this truth from you in order to protect you. She wanted me to know in case---”

“In case I meet my father in battle?”

“Yes. Your father was taken by the Dark Lord and tortured until he became one of his dark creatures. Your father is an Orc.”

Brellas stood, moving away from the table. “No, you are lying! Lady Egalwen would never… She is lying!”

Caranthir’s eyes were full of compassion. “I’m not, and I believe that she cares for you, and would never have revealed this information to me if she didn’t trust me to keep you safe.”

“I don’t need anyone to keep me safe! I’ve survived alone all this time.”

Caranthir approached him carefully, as if he was a colt about to bolt away. Brellas clenched his fists, needing an outlet to his pain and frustration. He could not hit Caranthir, could he? 

_It’s not his fault, but how could Elder Egalwen keep this from me?_

Brellas started trembling all over, all strength gone. He sat on a chair and placed his hands on the table, trying to catch his breath. That was when he felt Caranthir’s hand on his hair, as if he were a child who needed to be comforted in his pain. 

_I’m not a child!_

He was not a child, and he didn’t want Caranthir to see him like one, but when he felt strong arms pull him up and then close, Brellas allowed the gesture. Caranthir said no word, and only rubbed Brellas’ back slowly until the rest of the tension was gone, leaving only the grief.

“I am here,” Caranthir said at last. “We will deal with this together.”

An inner voice was questioning Caranthir’s words, and their physical closeness, but Brellas was too exhausted to listen to it. He simply rested in Caranthir’s arms and tried to process the fact that he was no longer an orphan but the child of a dark creature.


	6. Chapter 6

Caranthir held Brellas carefully, hoping that he stayed calm. It was a terrible thing to know that your father had been tortured and twisted until he became an Orc. What would Brellas do if he recognized his father in battle? Would he stay his hand? Would his father kill him? 

How much of an Elf’s spirit remained in an Orc after such torture? Caranthir had seen his own brother, Maedhros, struggling to stay sane after Fingon rescued him. Sometimes Maedhros’ eyes burned with a fiery fire that reminded Caranthir of the look in their father’s eyes when he swore the Oath in Tirion. 

Or when they almost burned Telvo in Losgar… 

Brellas moved slightly. “Thank you, Caranthir.”

Caranthir let go of him. Brellas’ face was pale, and his eyes showed a deep pain. It made Caranthir feel protective of him, and he barely stopped himself before reaching into Brellas’ mind. 

It would have been a disaster.

“I am sorry, Brellas, but I had to tell you about this.”

“I know.”

“Will you be all right with Herenmo?”

Caranthir was prepared for another outburst, but Brellas only nodded awkwardly and left. Caranthir watched him go. Brellas seemed to regain his composure as he walked away, at least on the outside. His pain still hit Caranthir’s shields, but soon it faded too. 

It was good that Brellas had learned to close his mind, but Caranthir knew better. 

Hopefully Brellas would stay away from the battlefield. Caranthir had debated with himself if he should tell this to Brellas or not. After all now Brellas would be looking for his father in every Orc he met and that would be dangerous. On the other side, Caranthir had never meant to make him a warrior but a counselor, so he should be safe. Either way, Brellas might have seen his father one day, and who knew what that creature would do then. It had been the best course of action, Caranthir decided. Brellas hated when people hid things from him, and Caranthir wanted the younger Elf to trust him.

Orcs had stopped coming near his realm after being defeated repeatedly, but one day they would come again in an army, and Caranthir would be ready. For now it was imperative to see what good could come from contacting these Dwarves. Learning their language would be a challenge, but Caranthir had an advantage. He should be able to read their minds.

Caranthir left his halls and rode off on Dark Star, heading to the south-most military outpost in his realm. He was going to meet the twins, and share news about the estate of their respective lands. Pityo and Telvo had built a strong realm, based not only in the trust from both Noldor and Green Elves, but in the cover of the forest of Nan Elmoth which the Orcs feared. 

Soon he was riding through the plains of Estolad, with only a minimum escort following him. Haston had insisted on it, always worried for his safety. Caranthir was certain than his friend would have come with him if possible. They had shared a close friendship in Aman, and the comfort of a bed once Fëanáro died, but now they were back to being just friends. At least that had been the case since Brellas came. 

_Could Haston be…?_

Nonsense, Caranthir decided as he saw the first guards from Ambarussa’s realm. Haston was not in love with him, so there was no reason for him to stay away other than the usual. They gave comfort to each other, and now they were busy ordering the realm.

A guard approached him. “Greetings, Lord Caranthir. Welcome to Estolad. Lords Amrod and Amras are coming to meet you.” 

“Thank you, Halendo. Lead the way. We will follow you.”

Caranthir and his men followed Halendo and his patrol, and before they could reach the twins’ settlement, Ambarussa showed up, along with Laedhras, one of the Grey Elves who had stayed at Pityo’s side even after learning about the kinslaying at Alqualondë.

Telvo looked better. His hair was longer, and there was but a mere trace of pain in his eyes. Pityo looked calmer than the last time they’d met. That was good.

“You are early, Moryo!” Telvo slid off his mare and gave Caranthir a quick embrace. “And you look happy.”

Caranthir mock frowned at Telvo’s remark. “I am always happy. How are you two?” he asked, looking at Pityo. Laedhras had stayed a few steps behind. 

“We are well, Pityo said, and embraced Caranthir. “You do look happy, brother. More than usual,” he added, grinning.

Caranthir placed a hand on each twin’s shoulder. “Things are going well in my realm. I suppose that makes me happy. How about you two? Any Orc raids lately?”

“Yes, and no,” Pityo said, glancing at Laedhras before turning back to Caranthir. “Let us speak about it later?”

Caranthir nodded. “Hello, Laedhras,” he said. 

“Greetings, Lord Caranthir.”

Still so formal, as if Caranthir didn’t know Laedhras and Pityo were lovers. His brother didn’t want to speak about that either, so Caranthir didn’t press. He was more worried about Telvo and Helwanar.

They mounted again, and half an hour later they were sitting in the twins’ halls, along with Laedhras and Master Selen, their chief healer. Caranthir had declined the offer to rest, and now he could feel the tension in the room. 

“So, what is it?” 

“We found an Elf who was tortured to the point of almost becoming an Orc,” Pityo said. “He is confined, Moryo. We know we can’t trust him.”

“What do you mean, almost becoming an Orc?”

Caranthir thought of Erelfinë, King Ingwë’s cousin, once an Orc and now out of the Halls. He briefly wondered where the Bard was now. 

“He doesn’t speak our language anymore,” Telvo said, “and he doesn’t look like an Elf. His skin is bruised and his hair is white. His teeth…”

“His teeth are like those of wolves,” Master Selen said. “His eyes are haunted, and show a trace of his previous self.”

“How can you be so sure, Master Selen?”

“He was my friend,” Laedhras said. “Master Selen can see a trace of Luinel’s spirit in his eyes. I can see my friend looking back at me.”

“I see.”

“Laedhras believes that Luinel can be healed,” Pityo said. “He is one of us. We cannot abandon him to his fate!” 

Caranthir looked at Pityo. “There are tales about those who were not transformed, and yet they became thralls of the Dark Lord. It would be dangerous to let him walk free. You must understand this, brother.”

Pityo nodded, though his fists were clenched under the table, judging the visible strain in his arms. Laedhras seemed to be troubled, and Telvo looked miserable. Only Master Selen was calm.

“We believe that you could help us, Moryo,” Telvo finally said. “Pityo and I have tried, but he only withdraws into himself whenever we touch his mind. Perhaps you will be able to---”

“Break his shields? Probably, but I cannot guarantee he will be sane after that. If the Elf is not willing…”

“At this stage, either we heal him or let him go,” Master Selen said. 

_Or kill him…_

“All right,” Caranthir said. “Take me to him. I can rest later. I want to see him now.”

They guided him to the Healing House, and once there to a bed where a disfigured Elf was lying quietly. There were restraints around his wrists and ankles, but the way his muscles tensed as soon as he saw Caranthir were proof enough that the creature might break those restraints if pushed too far. 

Caranthir carefully brushed the creature’s surface thoughts, and though there was a brief moment of panic and rage, its mental shields came down even as he screamed in agony. Caranthir withdrew, all the time sending calming pulses into the creature’s chaotic mind. It quieted as soon as Laedhras took its hand and whispered a few soothing words. 

“There is no mind left, I’m afraid,” Caranthir said. “Only fear, madness and pain. I could try to delve deeper into its mind, but I believe that the Elf inside this body is gone.”

“But he remembers me,” Laedhras said. “He calms when I speak to him.”

“Like a terrified horse when its master calms it.”

Pityo touched Caranthir’s shoulder. “Moryo…”

“It’s what I felt, Pityo. I don’t want to give you false hopes. I will try again tomorrow, but it might be better to accept the inevitable.”

“We cannot kill one of our own,” Telvo said. “Maybe if we take care of him… Erelfinë---”

“Died and went to the Halls, and he was not in his right mind when he came out.”

Laedhras tensed, but it was Master Selen who spoke.

“We are trying to assess his mental condition, Lord Caranthir. If he is too far gone, we will take care of him for as long as possible. We appreciate your help with this. Now we know how bad Luinel’s condition is. I also believe that he is beyond healing.”

Caranthir sighed. “Maybe I’m wrong, Master Selen. I am tired and there are other things in mind at the moment. I was very careful, but maybe tomorrow Luinel will be calmer and more cooperative.”

That seemed to ease the tension in the room. Caranthir still believed that the creature… the Elf was beyond help, but he would try again in the morning, once he had eaten and rested.

_And once I can stop thinking of Brellas’ father…_


	7. Chapter 7

Brellas followed Herenmo, trying to keep his mind focused on the current task, whatever it was, all thoughts of his father’s survival buried in the deepest part of his mind. Three days had passed since Caranthir left Thargelion, and during this time Brellas and Herenmo had contacted the Dwarves and talked to the chief of the two trading companies that used to cross what now was called Dor Caranthir. Haston had been there too, under pretense of being their escort. Brellas didn’t think that the Dwarves believed that, but they didn’t seem to mind. They had their own warriors hidden among the members of their companies. Nobody wanted a war, it seemed, but risks would not be taken either.

Everything was ready for Caranthir’s meeting with the Dwarves now. As soon as the Lord of Thargelion came back from Estolad, they would escort Caranthir to a meeting with Masters Dwalan and Narvé. The two peoples had already exchanged lists of possible trade items, and though the Dwarves were not happy about paying a toll, the prospects of crossing Thargelion safely had weighed on their agreement to the meeting. 

Brellas had never before seen so many Dwarves in one place, or spoken to them for long. The Dwarves spoke the Elven tongue with a strange accent, and only used their own language when they needed to give a quick order to their companions. When Herenmo mentioned the possibility of learning Khuzdul in order to forge a better trading agreement, Master Dwalan had laughed, and Master Narvé had said that this was out of the question. 

“Brellas, are you listening to me?”

They were standing near Caranthir’s lair, and Anor’s last rays made the waters of Lake Helevorn look afire.

“Brellas?” 

“I’m sorry, Herenmo, I let my mind drift. You were saying?”

“You look tired,” Herenmo said. “Maybe you should rest.”

“I’m all right. Tell me.”

“That’s what I was telling you, Brellas. We are done for today, and Lord Caranthir should arrive early in the morning.”

“I thought we were supposed to have a meeting with Master Nolwë and Lady Elarien.”

“Tomorrow,” Herenmo said, “when Lord Caranthir is back. We have nothing to tell them anyway, only that the Dwarves won’t teach us their language.”

“All right,” Brellas said, “Tomorrow, then.”

“Rest well.”

“You too.”

Brellas headed to his quarters, angry at himself for letting his mind drift in front of Herenmo. Caranthir’s aide shouldn’t be worrying for him. At least it didn’t happen in front of Haston. Brellas wasn’t certain if the other Elf accepted him as part of Caranthir’s staff, but they had to work together, whether they liked it or not.

He was also angry at Caranthir, which didn’t make sense. Why would Caranthir stay in Thargelion only because Brellas was going through such a hard time? It was all so confusing. Caranthir was his lord, his friend maybe, but that was all. He should be counseling Caranthir, not wishing for his counsel. Yet Brellas wished he could speak with him about what happened to his father. He was an Orc now, a twisted creature that might not even recognize him if they met in battle. It would have been better if he had died, but now that Brellas knew that his father was alive, he had mixed feelings about it. Could his father be saved? Could Brellas bring him back to a semblance of normalcy?

_I’m a warrior, and a scout, so I can find him… But I promised Caranthir that I would be here when he returned. Only then I will be free to look for my father, and I will._

Sleep didn’t come until it was almost dawn, and then it was time to wake up because Caranthir needed to be informed about the details of the meeting. Brellas managed to go through the process without falling asleep on his feet. 

The meeting with the Dwarves went quite well, unexpectedly so given Caranthir’s haughty attitude and Master Dwalen’s testiness. It was Master Narvé who managed to calm the others down, and Brellas understood how age could give a man perspective and wisdom. A trade arrangement was made, a toll was to be paid by the Dwarves for traveling through Caranthir’s lands, protection to them was assured while doing so, and somehow the Lord of Thargelion got the right to mine part of the lands beyond the Ered Luin as part of the agreement. 

Caranthir’s eyes shone with something akin to emotion when they spoke about mining rights. It was uncanny to see the haughty Lord of Thargelion showing, even if minimally, his emotions as he got this part settled. They had mines on the southern and eastern flanks of the Ered Luin, so why was Caranthir so keen to concede more protection to the Dwarves in exchange of those few more mines?

The meeting in the Council hall was equally satisfactory, and though to everyone’s surprise Caranthir confessed that he could not read the Dwarves’ minds, he already seemed to have a basic understanding of the language. 

“It’s about listening to the intonation and watch their body language,” Caranthir said. “It is not a simple language, unlike the Secondborn’s, but in time I might be able to provide you with enough clues to be on guard and not let the Naugrim deceive you.”

“They don’t like that name, Naugrim,” Haston pointed out. 

“Even if it describes them well,” Caranthir said. “They call themselves Khazâd in their own language. We will use that word when we have deals with them. Make sure that everyone in the army knows this, Haston. There are a few words we should learn, like vemu which means greetings, and rasup gamut which means farewell. I will make a list of the few words I caught, but be careful when using them. We don’t want to offend the Naugrim and start a war with them.”

http://www.meryrose.altervista.org/html/modules.php?name=Khuzdul

Once the meeting was over, Caranthir stayed with Master Nolwë to write a list of the words he had heard and their possible meaning. Brellas headed to his quarters and despite his efforts to stay awake soon he was deeply asleep. He didn’t wake up until Anar’s rays were warming the lake just before it sunk behind the western horizon. 

Caranthir was there, sitting in Brellas’ favorite chair, a book in his hands, a tray of meat and pastries resting on a table. There was also a pot with herbal tea, ginger from the smell of it. Brellas didn’t move for a while and just looked at the ceiling, trying to get a hold on his emotions. He should have left in search of his father already, but he was still in his quarters and Caranthir was with him. 

“You are awake.”

Brellas sat up on the bed. “I overslept, it seems.”

Caranthir said nothing.

“I want to leave Thargelion,” Brellas said. He slid his feet to the floor and stood. “You don’t seem to be surprised.”

Caranthir stood too. “No. I thought you would. I wish you stayed, but I respect your wishes. I will send a messenger to Lady Egalwen, so she knows that you are returning to them.”

“I’m not returning to them.”

Anger flashed in Caranthir’s eyes for a moment, but then all Brellas could see was frustration. “So you are determined to look for your father.”

“I have no choice.” 

“Neither have I, it seems. I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Brellas said. “I don’t want you to do this!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not your problem but mine,” Brellas said. Caranthir would kill his father, and Brellas didn’t want that to happen, not before he knew if there was any possibility of saving him.

_And maybe not even then…_

Caranthir looked at him. “Sit down, Brellas, and eat. We will speak about this later. Can I expect you to stay in Thargelion tonight? There are things we need to speak about.”

Brellas felt the blood draining from his face. “Is there anyone else…? Is Mother…?”

“Your mother is dead,” Caranthir said. He moved closer and guided Brellas to his chair. “I met someone in Estolad, an Elf… rescued from the Orcs.”

Brellas sat down only because he knew that Caranthir would say no more until he started to eat. “Was he sane?”

“He was not, but he might recover. He is no longer an Elf, though he isn’t an Orc yet. Brellas, your father was taken long ago, and he is an Orc. Lady Egalwen was clear about this.”

“Then why are you telling me about this… creature who is not an Elf yet not an Orc either?”

“Because he knew your father, and in time he might be able to tell you about him.”

Brellas had stopped eating, but now he felt nauseous. “About his last days as an Elf, about the way they tortured him?”

Caranthir placed a hand on Brellas’ shoulder. “About his love for you, and his hope that you were safe and escaped his fate,” he said. “I saw friendship in Luiniel’s mind, and hope. Your father helped Luiniel to escape, even though he has been an Orc for a long time. I don’t know if he can be saved, Brellas. I don’t think it possible, but there is still a flame inside him that Morgoth has been unable to kill, and that is the love for you, for his son.”

Brellas closed his eyes briefly, leaning into the contact for a moment. “Then I have to look for him, Caranthir. You must understand.”

“I do, but for now take some rest and think about what I have told you. I am willing to help you, but I will not let you run head first into danger. You are one of us now, Brellas. I protect my people, and my friends.”

Brellas nodded. He still wanted to do this alone, but at the same time he knew that he needed help. Thargelion was his home now, and Caranthir and Herenmo were his friends. He would stay, for a while, and think of the best way to deal with this.


	8. Chapter 8

Days had turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and they had found no trace of Brellas’ father. Caranthir had ridden with Brellas through the lands beyond Thargelion. They had also come to Estolad so Brellas could speak with Luiniel, who was slowly recovering from his torment. Luiniel was now able to speak coherently and recall events from his past. He could not speak about Brellas’ father without becoming increasingly agitated, but he had given them clues about his possible whereabouts. 

The search had been fruitless, though. If Brellas’ father was still alive, he was far from Thargelion and Estolad. Maybe he had helped Luiniel to escape without coming with him because he was too far gone. Or maybe he was dead. Caranthir wished they had found him one way or the other. Brellas seemed to be calmer now, but there was always a veil of sadness in his eyes. 

Caranthir finished with the day’s paperwork, correcting things where needed and signing communications and trade agreements with new groups of Dwarves. There was also an active exchange of food and wine with Estolad, and of horses and armor with Himring. Káno had come to visit last month, and Curvo and Tyelko were coming soon for a hunting trip near Ambarussa’s lands. Everything was as it should be. 

Or as good as it could, given the Oath and the enemy lurking outside.

“Lord Caranthir?”

“Yes, Herenmo?”

“Lord Brellas is ready.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

Caranthir headed to the stables, where a stable boy was holding Dark Star for him. Brellas was already mounted on Grey Silver, his hair held back in the Silvan Elves’ way. He looked beautiful, and a bit impatient.

_Good._

“So where are we going this time?” Caranthir asked. 

“Lady Egalwen wants to speak with you about a small mine the Dwarves found near my people’s lands. If they mine it, the tailings will poison the rivers and lands.”

“Are those lands mine?”

“Yes…”

“Then it’s up to me if they are mined.”

“But you can’t…”

Caranthir smiled. “I didn’t say I will allow the Dwarves to mine them.”

“Are you going to mine them yourself?”

“Perhaps…”

Brellas frowned. “You have enough mines!”

Caranthir laughed. “Let’s go.”

Brellas followed. “You are not mining there, Caranthir!”

“Is that my counselor’s advice?”

“Stop laughing!”

Caranthir laughed more. “Ask me nicely…”

“I will show you nicely.”

It was so good to see Brellas angry, and not sad. Any emotion was better than no emotion.

“Race me to the end of the field, and we’ll talk about it.”

Brellas smiled, and then without a word, he spurred Grey Silver into a gallop.


End file.
